Deception
by Gail M
Summary: Captain Lee Crane is sent on an ONI mission that goes terribly wrong.


Deception

by Gail M. R.

"It is just as much a matter of chance that I am still alive...

But every soldier believes in chance and trusts his luck."

Erich Paul Remark

0000

The SSRN Seaview was sitting on the surface holding station 100 nautical miles out, off the coast of Spain near the Port of Aviles. The submarine rose and dipped on the light surface swells, the waves calmly buffeting her haul with the muddy grey green waters of the Atlantic.

o0o

"You all set, Lee?" Admiral Harriman Nelson inquired standing along side Seaview's Captain, Lee Crane, who waited on the control deck prepared to ascend the steel ladder leading top side.

"Yes, I'll contact you in three days, Admiral."

Nelson clapped Lee heartily on his shoulder, "Take care of yourself, Lee," not allowing his mind to stray into thoughts of Crane not returning. He knew someday Lee's ability to come through against all odds would betray him. A cat only had so many lives. In the course of events the Captain had already used up his fair share.

"Don't worry, Admiral." Kowalski, who was standing behind Crane, chimed in, "Pat and I will watch his back, won't let anything happen to the Skipper."

"You do that." Nelson answered with a smile and a slight chuckle. He had always been aware of the crews unwavering loyalty to their Captain. The two ratings, in addition to the entire crew, would lay down their lives for Crane.

Chip Morton Seaview's X.O. stepped forward putting a companionable hand on his friend's shoulder. "Lee, we will be at these coordinates submerged waiting for your contact. Ready to launch a raft and pick you up. Take care, buddy."

"Thanks, Chip." Crane returned, smiling at his companions as he moved to exit the boat. "See you in three days."

Captain Lee Crane climbed the escape ladder from the control room followed by Ski and Pat to the sail hatch, prepared to board the fishing boat waiting to transport them into one of Spain's largest industrial sea ports. The boat would take them to the dock and a prearranged meet with Boris Agapov, an illegal arms dealer. Their mission, to purchase twenty five rocket launchers, this merchandise, with some alterations, was to be resold for information regarding a new chemical weapon being developed by the People's Republic. This transaction had been arranged to establish Crane's cover as a weapons dealer. The mission was the brain child of the White House, the Pentagon, O.N.I. and Crane's bright idea to volunteer.

o0o

The road, agreed upon for the meeting, was covered with dark and light shadows along the ground, lit from the sun striking the concealing trees, causing intricate patterns to form on the barren dirt of the clearing. The earth seemed overly filled with small rocks, pebbles and deep ruts, the kind one could turn an ankle if not careful. It fit the mood perfectly, somber, deserted, quiet and well away from any but the most determined prying eyes. A black sedan sat waiting on the far side, having pulled over to the shoulder well off the main street.

Within minutes, a second car made its way to the clearing pulling in front of the original car, stopping. Both cars were now nose to nose, separated only by a few yards. Headlights blinked, flashing out a predetermined code in a specific sequence, to verify identities.

Car doors clicked and opened. Stepping out from each vehicle, three occupants emerged. They took up positions on opposite sides of the wooded clearing.

"Boris Agapov," the American called out.

"No."

"Where is Boris Agapov?" Crane countered with displeasure.

"Boris was delayed. I'm making the transaction."

"This wasn't the arrangement we agreed to," The annoyance in his retort being obvious. "Do you have our merchandise?"

"Yes, do you have the money?"

"Yes, fifty thousand now, fifty thousand on delivery pending inspection." the anger building in Crane's voice.

A tall man with eastern european features cautiously walked closer. "Crane?... I am Dmitri Kosofe, Boris Agapov's... ah...business partner."

Crane motioned to Pat who was holding a slim black brief case. "Show him the money." Pat balanced the case on the hood of the car, opening it to reveal neatly stacked, bound U.S. dollars.

Dmitri Kosofe reached in and began deftly counting the currency. Satisfied with the amount he signaled to an unseen vehicle down the road. A large white box truck came into view, pulling into the same clearing.

"Gentlemen, your merchandise." He slid up the cargo door exposing the interior compartment heavily laden with weapons, specifically rocket launchers.

"Ski, check them out."

Kowalski with one leap jumped up into the truck to inspect their acquisitions. After ten minutes he announced, "All here and in good working order, Mister Crane."

"Pat, bring the other case." Paterson turned back to the car. Popping the rear trunk, he removed an identical case, snapped it open, displaying the contents to Kosofe, who swiftly counted the offered cash. "It's all here. Pleasure doing business with you, Mister Crane." Kosofe turned, crossing to his vehicle.

Crane gave an affirmative nod. "Mr. Kosofe," as he returned to the immediate vicinity of their car.

Suddenly gun fire shattered the relative quiet of the deserted road. All at once, bullets exploded in all directions. Crane, Ski and Paterson took refuge behind the truck. Kosofe and his people weren't so lucky; all were cut down as they struggle to escape.

Out of the dense woods walked ten well-armed mercenary soldiers clad in full black combat gear with automatic rifles aimed directly at Crane's head.

A single soldier separated himself from the group taking up position in front of Crane. "Mister Crane."

"What's the meaning of this?" Crane vehemently addressed the stranger.

With a heavy accent, although his words were quite intelligible, he addressed Crane. "Captain Crane, I presume." Voiced as a statement of fact. This man obviously knew who and what he was and his connection to Seaview and the U.S. Government.

Crane experienced a cold chill rush through his body, ' _it's a trap.'_ Lee's heart raced, pounding with anger. "What, is this...?"

Without warning, an electrical charge shot through the three captives standing by the truck, dropping them unconscious to the ground.

o0o

Opening his eyes, at first not recognizing his surroundings, Ski scanned the area in an attempt to get his bearings. He caught sight of Patterson's still form lying unconscious, face down in the dirt. He partially lifted Patterson's upper body out of the dust. "Hey, Pat, you okay?"

Patterson came round with a muffled groan, holding his throbbing head, as he cautiously sat up. "What'd they hit us with anyway?" shaking his head slowly, striving to clear his vision.

"I think it was some sort of stunner, man it did a number on my head." Ski rubbed his hand across his face.

"Hey, where's the Skipper?" Patterson's words were laced with panic.

Ski and Patterson scoured the area in an attempt to locate Crane, with no success, aware that the Captain may have wondered off injured and disoriented. In addition to their missing Captain, the box truck and the money were also gone.

"Oh, boy, the Admiral's going to love this." Ski reached into the sedan for the short wave radio. With a hard swallow, "Albatross calling Seabird, come in Seabird."

In a monotone voice, Sparks, Seaview's radio operator answered, "Albatross, this is Seabird, go ahead Albatross."

"This is Albatross. I need to speak to Operations, it's urgent."

"Stand by." The connection clicked. "Go ahead for Operations."

"Albatross, what the devil's going on, you weren't to make contact for another two days and where is Mister Crane?"

"That's just it, ah, he's gone."

"Gone, what do you mean gone!"

Ski relayed the entire episode to Nelson, all that he could remember in precise detail, but he lacked any useful facts.

The decision had been made that Ski and Patterson were of no further use in their present location. Nelson ordered them to meet at the original rendezvous coordinates and return to the boat.

In the interim, Nelson went about the arduous task of contacting all possible sources in Spain in an attempt to ascertain Crane's whereabouts.

By the time the two crewmen returned to the boat, Nelson had just about given up. All his contacts came up dry, no clues to the location of Crane, not even a rumor.

Commander Chip Morton, tentatively broached a suggestion. "Admiral, what about Boris Agapov?"

"Agapov, that arms dealer?"

"Sir, he knows the area and I am sure he has connections… contacts we can't access. He may know where to obtain information."

The Admiral shot back to the X.O. "Chip, for all we know, he set this whole thing up." Building anger began to rise up in Nelson. His face flushed with fire, matching his red hair.

"Sir, his men were killed and his money taken; if Ski's right, one of the men gunned down was his business partner." Morton's voice slid into calm, addressing the problem with reason and logic. His worry, as great as the Admiral's.

"Chip you might have something there." The anger faded in Nelson, replaced by a mischievous smile. As he presented the Admiral with the beginning of an idea. "Appeal to his finer nature. Greed. He might agree for a chance to retrieve his money and the weapons. Good, Chip, very good. I believe we can work with that. Let us see where it leads us, anyway."

o0o

Crane roused with a start to repeated back handed blows to his face. His cheeks stung, his lip felt split, a trickle of warmth ran down his chin and he tasted blood. Lee's left eye lid felt swollen, stuck together, making it difficult to open. He tried in useless desperation to defend himself, shuttering under each assault but his body refused to cooperate. Evidently he was pinned down. Realization finally dawned, his wrists and ankles were securely cuffed to an unyielding metal chair. His thoughts ran wild. _'Who had done this and what did they want.'_ Lee wanted to scream, cry out from the unrelenting pain. But he refused to utter a sound, not giving them any satisfaction.

"So, you're awake, Mister Crane or should I call you Captain? Captain Lee Crane of the submarine Seaview."

A tall bearded man dressed in black fatigues stood over him. His eyes stark blue, cold and unyielding. He spoke with a heavy accent but his words were unmistakable.

Forcing himself to look up through his clouded vision, face streaked with blood, his stomach lurched, continuously fighting the urge to vomit, he gasped, "what's going on? Why am I here?"

"We need not answer any of your questions, Captain, but for the moment, you are our prisoner."

"Who are you? What do you want with me?"

"Revenge, Captain Crane, pure and sweet revenge. If you must know why, you and your Admiral killed my brother. He was aboard the enemy submarine Nelson destroyed with the Macklin. He wasn't one of the lucky ones. He never made it out. This way I get money for you and I have the satisfaction that you will suffer before you die at the hands of your enemies, like my brother did. "The mercenary smiled at the prospect of Cranes torturous death.

"Since you're aware of who I am, I'm sure you are also aware, I will not willingly relinquish any information." Crane came back with an equally hard cold stare.

"Now we want nothing, but perhaps a little fun before we turn you over to your buyers."

Crane knew what was coming, another swift strike from his captor. His whole body was already bathed in sweat, dazed and shaken from the continual blows to his upper body and face. He was trained to endure torture, knew what to expect. But it didn't stop the cold sinking feeling that ran through his entire body like a wave.

"Where are my men?"

"Your men were left for dead. Our sole interest is with you."

"You bastard." He was rewarded with a resounding slap across his already abused face.

"Who are you?"

"That is of no importance to you. You won't be our guest for long."

At that statement, his tormenter turned and was gone, leaving Crane alone seated in semi-darkness. Lee Crane, with difficulty, experimentally tried to move the chair while struggling to ignore the constant throbbing in his head and face. The chair, to his surprise, was bolted to the floor.

Amid dim lights and his blurred vision from his damaged eye, making it difficult to see his surroundings clearly but he tried. High above his head daylight streamed through windows with filmy broken glass; across the ceiling ran a myriad of wires and corroded metal supports. The floor appeared to be made of concrete, it was covered with filth, grease and dust. On the far wall he noted small offices and lockers. He was being held in what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. He could hear the echoing sounds of voices all originating from behind him. Men were speaking in quiet tones, with the occasional bursts of laughter.

Crane began to consider his options finding with no great surprise he had little choice but to rely on his O.N.I. training. If Kowalski and Paterson were truly dead, it meant he was completely alone. No one knew that he had gone missing, let alone a location on his whereabouts. He would need to bide his time, what little he had, watching for an opportunity to present itself with a means of escape.

A soldier arrived; he released Crane from the chair hauled him to a standing position, pushing him along at gunpoint, forcibly propelling him to one of the distant office cubicles.

"How long have I been here?" The Captain asked. "Where is this place?" Crane continued asking questions to no avail. He was met with a cold stare and cruel smile.

A very shaky and exhausted Crane took in his new surroundings. His prison had been stripped, devoid of all furnishings, with the exception of where he sat. It appeared to be a narrow framed cot, with an aged and heavily soiled mattress. His wrist was secured to the wall with tight metal handcuffs, causing his arm to hang at an uncomfortable angle, cutting into the flesh of his wrist. Crane was offered a single cup of water, no food; he took the offered cup, drinking deeply of the foul-tasting liquid, not knowing when or if there would be another opportunity in the future.

The Captain sat on the old cot studying the area all around him, continuously looking for a means of escape to present itself. He spotted a thin piece of discarded wire wedged up against the wall.

Cautiously, he looked around. He knew it was ridiculous; there were no onlookers. He was the only occupant in the empty room, his only company were the small insects on the grimy floor.

Crane tried to judge the distance to the wire _._ If he extended himself using his feet he could probably dislodge the object. He knew he had to try.

Fighting the pain in his body and head, he eased his leg forward, extended his long form as far as possible; he felt considerable strain in his cuffed wrist and arm, nearly dislocating his shoulder. Pointing his toe, desperate to free the object, his first attempt met with little success. His second try gave him much greater satisfaction. Dragging his prize closer, he picked up his only means of escape. With the aid of the valuable wire, he deftly removed the handcuffs. He then turned his attention to the door. Crane made short work of the uncomplicated locking mechanism.

Easing the door open he found no guard. He surveyed the warehouse floor, locating several points of concealment. Cautiously he exited his prison, his black silhouette melting smoothly into the darkened warehouse. Keeping to the shadows and the cover of scattered crates, he crossed several yards of floor to the cubicles he had seen from across the room. Close up they were rows of green-grey metal lockers. Cautiously he quietly opened each door until he found what he sought, a weapon, a gun, something to defend himself with, or to fight back, if the need should arise. Further down, on the same wall as the lockers, he spotted a domed light hanging over an arched doorway, and a set of concrete stairs, leading down and hopefully out. Locating his closest option of escape, he gathered his last burst of adrenalin driven energy, channeling it all into a desperate sprint for the only exit in sight.

Taking the steps rapidly, he hoped the tunnel would lead him to freedom. He walked several yards into the passageway. The domed lights, high above, guided his path when he heard a noise behind him. Crane stopped and turned as a gunshot rang out. The pain from the bullet ripped through his right shoulder. He couldn't breathe, couldn't run, his body burned as he sucked in hot stale air. His knees started to buckle as he blindly hit hard onto the solid tar floor, rolling to a stop in the gravel.

Black boots approached, kicking him in the gut and again in the ribs. He felt and heard a sharp snap, as several of his ribs gave way. Crane clutched at his chest, taking in a shallow breath. "You cause us much problems, Captain. The sooner we deliver you, the better for all." As the darkness swiftly crept over his vision, a fleeting thought crossed Lee's mind. ' _Death is preferable to being sold to the enemy.'_

o0o

Admiral Harriman Nelson took a seat in one of the ornate antique chairs; he sat there like he belonged in this environment. Nelson stood in the palatial grand sitting room filled with rare antiques and priceless one of a kind items. The sun glistened through the elaborately appointed windows, spreading a golden shaft of light across the oriental carpet.

Normally Nelson would have marveled at the well-appointed room. Today, however, the Admiral had one objective in mind, gaining much needed information in regards to Lee Crane's location.

"So, Admiral, tell me why I should help you and your Captain after you deceived me?" Boris Agagov was a tall man, not particularly handsome, with a thick German accent. He circled the room as he spoke.

"Well, it's just as we discussed. You get your weapons and the money and we get Crane. What else do you want?

"Say we know where your Captain is being held, we would want assurances that you will not alert the authorities."

"What did you have in mind? "

"You, perhaps, as shall we say, insurance for our continued freedom." Nelson was waiting for this, a change in the original plan. He had arranged for just such a contingency; he had handpick men stationed outside the villa ready to retrieve him as soon as he obtained the location of Crane.

"I'll agree to your terms with one request, I need to call my boat."

"That is acceptable as long as I am present when you do."

Nelson removed the radio from the pocket of his leather jacket. "Seagull to Seabird, come in Seabird."

"Seabird, here."

"I have the information on the location of our merchandise. It is located on a small fishing boat, moored at a private dock, about twenty miles down the coast, coordinates to follow."

"Information received."

"And, Seabird, a slight change of plans. I am going to be detained here. You'll have to proceed with the procurement of our merchandise without my help. All other arrangements are still in place." With Nelson's foresight, the original plans included the Admiral's extraction from the villa, along with alerting Interpol and Spanish authorities to their resident arms dealer.

"Seagull, I don't like the sound of that." Chip objected.

"No choice in the matter. You have your instructions. I expect you to carry them out."

"Understood." Chip knew it was useless; all his protests would go unheeded.

"Seagull out," as all communications were severed.

o0o

Crane came to consciousness to the resonance of a loud angry voice and the addition of a burning throb, deep within his shoulder; his clothing and skin now soaked and wet. As he had expected more blows followed the harsh words. The pain was a cold reminder of his present circumstances.

"Captain, you have been much trouble to us." Those piercing cold unyielding eyes peered down at the Captain, holding within their depths much hatred.

Crane looked up with considerable derision aimed at his captor. Sweat-streaked dirt ran down his abused face. In a sarcastic tone, he uttered, "I do my best."

For his trouble, he caught another blow across his face. "No matter, you are being moved. Taking you one step closer..."

Cutting his captor off. "Where are we going?"

"That is of no concern of yours, Captain. We go now." A coarse black hood was unceremoniously shoved over his head.

"What are you doing, where are you taking me?"

Rough hands grabbed at his arms, dragging him through the warehouse. He struggled to free himself from their painful grip. A fist caught him in the gut, he almost went down. Crane moaned, straightening up slowly, trying to catch his breath. With the assault and the broken ribs, it made it difficult to breathe.

"Don't fight us, Captain, or you will get worse. You need not be in perfect condition on delivery."

Bodily he was thrown into a waiting van. He suppressed his cry of pain, not wanting to give them any further enjoyment from his suffering.

It was twilight when the old battered van pulled out of the dark warehouse with Crane inside. He could hear the creak and moan of rusty hinges as the door resisted the effort to open.

Completely blind to his environment, he used his other senses to determine his location and where he was being taken. By the feel of the road below the tires and the unmistakable sound of men and machinery, they moved along an industrial dock. Could it be the same dock where he originally came ashore?

As they pulled away, the van picked up speed heading east, driving along on a smooth paved road for some time. The vehicle sped along, maneuvering around a tight curve, continuing on this route for several miles. As they slowed, the sound beneath the tires changed as the van turned onto a sandy or dirt covered road, finally coming to an abrupt halt. The back cargo doors squeaked open and brutal hands again grabbed him dragging him out.

"Your next stop, Captain, get up!" Insistent forceful hands thrust him forward. He felt the open air on his body. Crane struggled, trying to free himself. He had no idea where he was, but if he could get away, anywhere was better than being a captive.

"Where are you taking me, who have you sold me to…?"

"Questions, always more questions, just keep walking."

In his darkness, cold air plucked at his clothing. The breeze raised goose flesh on his sweat drenched skin. He detected the unmistakable sent of the sea, the call of sea birds high above his head and the soft murmur of the surf lapping against a shore line. He was being propelled forward through sand. The fine powder gave way to a wooden dock. He caught the distinct aroma of raw gutted fish, as the tangy scent drifted in the air. He was being ushered onto the wooden ramp of a fishing boat. No doubt this was to be his transportation to an enemy vessel, and his buyers.

His body exhausted, his legs began to turn to water causing him to stumble on the ramp, as fear hammered at his heart. Crane's knees finally folded under the strain, hitting the wooden surface hard. He released an involuntary grunt, forcibly expelling a sharp breath as he went down.

"Keep walking," came an angry voice. Crane's body was forcibly hauled onto the boat. They stopped, standing on the deck, he listened to the conversation between his captor and the Captain of the fishing boat. The exchange lasted only moments, it yielded no pertinent information.

"Captain Stark, this is your cargo. You are to make your delivery after midnight, as per your original instructions. When you reach this position, you will receive a signal from the trawler. That's when you make the final hand over. Is that clear?"

"Yes, but when do I get paid?" Stark sounded annoyed. He wanted his money, now.

"After your delivery, the money will be waiting for you at our usual drop."

Viciously Crane was grabbed, thrown into the hold. For a second time his hands and legs securely fastened to a chair, with the door slamming behind his jailer. Again he found himself alone.

o0o

Silent shots fired, reaching into the grounds of the villa. The well placed snipers, who had been concealed above on adjacent rooftops, cleanly knocked out the sentries on the perimeter with stun guns. Moving swiftly, Nelson's men then eliminated the security guards closest to the house. Attaining the main entrance to the villa, the men were prepared to extract the Admiral. His men rushed the door, taking it, startling the guards on the interior, catching all completely unaware, Seaview's men dispatched them quickly.

"We saw Agagov leave, Admiral. Are you all right?" Riley breathlessly asked.

"Yes, is FS1 here?" As he rushed for the door.

"Aye, sir, Kowalski's bringing her in now." High above them, the unique whine of the flying sub could be discerned a she streaked over their heads.

"Let's go." Nelson retorted.

As they departed the villa heading for the adjacent air field, they glanced up towards the sky, observing the distinct shape and bright yellow color of FS1. She closed the distance quickly, making a perfect touchdown, landing onto the tarmac in front of them.

The party hastily climbed aboard the vessel, leaving the villa behind.

After boarding the ship, Nelson took over the main controls, intent on flying her back out to Seaview himself.

"Fasten your seat belts, gentlemen." Nelson wrapped the transducer around his throat fingering the controls. "Stingray to Seabird, come in Seabird." Immediately taking FS1 airborne, Nelson pushed the little craft to her limits.

"Read you, Stingray. Go ahead for Operations." Sparks answered crisply. While O'Brian anxiously stood in the communications shack, fingering the mic.

" Has Pelican departed for its destination?"

"Awaiting your orders to proceed, sir. "

"Permission granted, with all possible haste. Seabird, we will rendezvous and dock in approximately twenty minutes, Stingray out." The Mach two aircraft rapidly covered the distance, plunging nose first into the murky waters of the Atlantic. Within minutes, the docking clamps had engaged, producing an audible metallic clang that could be heard in Seaview's control room - clear confirmation...FS1 was securely seated within her birth, snug under Seaview's nose.

o0o

As the raft continued to approach its destination with the rescue party. It finally reached the shallows near the fishing boat. Sharkey, pulled out a signaling lamp, he used it to emit a prearranged signal aimed at the shore to alert Boris Agapov and his men of their arrival. Agapov was to take the boat from dockside drawing attention away from the stern, this allowed Seaview's men to board the boat unnoticed.

Under the cover of darkness they boarded. Deep shadows played across the deck, leaching color from the scene. It caused indistinguishable shapes of black and grey, with patterns that ran along the length of the rough wooden deck. As they carefully moved forward, they could hear the altercation between Agagov's men and the fishing boat's crew. The arms dealer was attempting to extract information on the whereabouts of his merchandise and money. Keeping them occupied, it left the way clear for Morton and his men to rescue Crane.

Lee Crane roused from his despondent state to the shouting above deck. Confused by the noise, he didn't know his rescue was in progress. Hearing the door to the hold open, he prepared for the worst. Panic swept through him, knowing this could be it. His last journey to an enemy ship and to what fate? To his surprise, a familiar voice called his name.

"Lee, are you here?" A bright light broke the darkness of his surroundings.

He found it difficult to reply. "Chip," His throat was raw and dry, "is that you?" He barely croaked out.

"Thank God, we found you!" Chip was shocked at Crane's condition. His face was bruised and swollen, smeared with dirt, sweat and blood. Chip's eyes were drawn down to the blood soaked tattered sweater, seeing the damaged raw flesh beneath the torn black fabric. "My God, what have they done to you."

Crane barely managed an answer through a ragged breath, "I'm beat up a bit, bullet wound in my right shoulder, sprung a couple of ribs."

Chief Sharkey moved forward to released the Skipper's hands and feet from their bindings. "Lets get you out of these restraints, Skipper, so we can leave this place."

All the while, Patterson kept watch at the door.

Crane sat still for a moment, feeling circulation painfully return to his abused body. "I don't know if I can stand."

"Let's see, lean on me." Chip and Sharkey lifted Crane bodily to unsteady feet. Immediately Crane collapsed in their arms as they balanced his weight supported between them. Gingerly, they reseated the Captain; Chip gently tapped Lee's injured face in an attempt to bring him around.

"Lee, Lee, come on, we can do this…"

Crane groaned in pain. Slowly he clawed his way to consciousness, reluctant to open his eyes, head bowed. "Sorry, I feel so weak…not much help.

"We need to move, sir." Patterson interjected eyeing the door. "Mister Morton, the Spanish authorities have arrived to arrest Agapov and his men. They may search the boat."

"Boris Agapov he's here? Chip, how did you find me and where's the Admiral?" Lee eyed his friend suspiciously.

Lee knew Chip well enough to spot when he was hiding the truth, skirting an issue.

Avoiding Lee's questions, "no time for explanations, we have to get you out, now!" Urgency showed in Morton's face.

Crane stood biting his lip, determined to stay on his feet. His body started to shake with the exertion adding to the fatigue, weakness and pain, but he became resolute to continue. With Chip's help and Crane's shear willpower, they managed to get to the upper deck. Dizziness and nausea plagued Lee as he moved into the dim moonlight. Only his resolve and Chip's promise of home kept him on his feet and moving.

Chip felt a shutter go through Crane's body, and took a firmer grip, "You're all right, Lee." Morton sensed the weakness in the Captain's legs. Using words of encouragement, their continued progress being foremost in his mind.

"Almost there Lee, just a few more feet." Slowing a little, Morton urged, "Lee, can you hear me? Just breathe. Don't quit on us now. We're almost home." Lee's head started to spin, distorting his vision, while his heart began to race from the considerable effort it took to stay upright and moving.

By the time they reached the little boat, Lee's energy had entirely given out. It took the combined efforts of all three men to place the Captain safely into the raft. Sharkey immediately pushed hard with the oar from the raft, shoving off from the fishing boat, headed back to Seaview.

Chip satisfied that they were safely on their way, positioned himself and held the Captain close. Morton didn't like the damage and the pallor of the usually strong handsome tanned face.

Lee's breath began to come in ragged gasps. "Chip?"

"Yes, it's me, Lee, we're on our way back to Seaview. Just hold on a few more minutes." Retrieving a water canteen stowed in the emergency gear aboard the raft. Chip, offered it to Lee. "Here, drink this, it will help." Bringing it gingerly to Crane's swollen lips, Chip helped steady the container as Lee took the cool liquid in gulps.

"That's enough, Skipper, take it slowly," easing the flask away from Crane.

Suddenly, Crane blurted out in a raw voice. "Pat...you're...not dead?"

"No, sir."

"They told me...you and Ski...were dead…" His voice trailed off to a whisper, not able to continue.

"We were just knocked out sir. When we came round, you, the money and the truck were missing. We searched the immediate area trying to find you, but there was nothing, no clue to what had happened to you. So we made our way back to Seaview."

Chip fumbled for and extracted a short wave radio from his pocket. "Pelican to Seabird, come in Seabird."

"This is Seabird, we read you, Pelican, go ahead."

"We have the package and it's damaged. We're returning to the nest, E.T.A. 10 minutes." The entire rescue party anxious to return to Seaview, and close the chapter on the mission, an operation that everyone would have agreed had gone horribly wrong.

o0o

Nelson was the first to exit the hatch from FS1. He began to bellow orders as he emerged. Stepping on the control deck he moved into immediate action. "O'Brian, status updates on rescue party. Any word from Mister Morton?"

O'Brian stood in the radio shack, holding the headset close to his ear. "It's coming in now, sir. They're on their way back. It's confirmed, sir." O'Brian's brows furrowed, darkening his eyes. "They have the Captain," the Lieutenant paused again to listen. "Admiral, the Captain's injured, E.T.A. 10 minutes."

"Understood, Pelican. Preparations in place for the damaged cargo."

"Received and understood, Pelican, out.

An uneasy look passed between the two officers, Nelson reached for the mic. "Sickbay this is Nelson."

Seaview's C.M.O. answered crisply. "Sickbay, Jamieson here."

"Doc, we'll need you in the control room. We've found Crane. They're bringing Lee aboard and he's injured."

"Any details?"

"I'm afraid not. That's all the information that's available."

"Aye, sir. We're on our way."

"Mister O'Brian, prepare to dive as soon as Mister Morton's party is aboard. Set a course for home at flank speed. Get us clear of the immediate area. Then drop her down to standard."

"Aye, sir."

O'Brian immediately stepped to the plot table, charting a quick escape from the area.

"Ski, do we have a contact on that trawler out there?" Nelson inquired.

"Yes, sir. We do. She's holding out there, staying in international waters." Kowalski bent over the sonar panel intently tracking the foreign trawler's movements.

"Keep a sharp look out for any movement. If that boat crosses into Spanish waters, sing out."

"Aye, sir."

Chip slid down the last few rungs of the escape hatch ladder to land securely on the control deck. Reaching up, he guided Crane's unconscious body down. From above Sharkey eased the Captains' limp form into Morton's waiting arms. Following quickly, Doctor Will Jamieson, Seaview's Chief Medical Officer, who had gone topside to meet the raft. Patterson came through last, dogged the above hatch prior to descending the ladder to the deck.

A stretcher and two corpsmen waited in the control room for their patient's arrival. With help, Crane was expertly loaded onto the stretcher.

Nelson looked pleadingly at Jamieson, "How is he?"

Jamie immediately bent over the still form, feeling for the Captain's pulse. "Pulse weak, but steady." Reaching a hand behind Cranes body, the Doctor examined the shoulder for an exit wound. He furrowed his brow, not particularly happy with the location of all the small bullet holes. He didn't care for the close proximity of all the fragments, adjacent to the thoracic axis, the artery leading into the arm's muscle. "His shoulder looks like swiss cheese. Extremely close to his artery though... no sign of an arterial bleed." Jamieson ushered in a soft professional tone as he continued to examined the shoulder more closely. "No indication that it nicked the artery." He thanked Providence for its watchful eye and continued protection that seemed to always gravitate to Seaview's Captain. "Lost a lot of blood from the deep fragment holes." He lifted Crane's eyelids peering deep into his eyes. "He's severely dehydrated, going into shock. I'll know more when I get him into sickbay." Jamieson pulled off a blood pressure cuff from Crane's arm, as he turned his head toward Nelson. "He's weak, Admiral, from low blood volume." Jamie shook his head. "From his battered appearance, he's really been through it..."

During the time it took the Doctor to make his cursory examination, and before the detail could lift the stretcher, Frank, Jamieson's corpsman, had started an I.V. and applied a pressure bandage to the Captain's shoulder. As they prepared to move Crane towards sickbay, Nelson touched a hand to Jamieson's arm. "Take care of him, Doc. I want a report on his condition as soon as possible." All this pain, all this suffering and for what, to bleed Crane dry of the secrets he possessed.

Jamieson couldn't help but see the pain that ripped through Nelson's heart and mind. It all showed in the Admiral's clouded blue eyes. He glanced back towards Nelson and nodded. Then quickly he motioned to the stretcher bearers to continue with all speed. "Let's go!" Jamieson snapped."

"Admiral, Interpol and the Spanish authorities were just picking up Boris Agapov and his thugs. They added the Captain and the crew of the fishing boat to the arrests. All were being rounded up as we were shoving off." Morton stated, pleased and relieved over their rescue efforts.

"Chip, Interpol has had Agapov on their radar for some time now but never enough evidence to pick him up."

"They will now and more with the arrest of the fishing boat's crew, Admiral." Chip grinned, obviously pleased, with the payback for Lee.

"Hey, Chief." Kowalski motioned to Sharkey, who had been standing alongside the Admiral and Mister Morton before the stretcher bearing Crane left the control room.

"Okay, Kowalski, what is it?" Sharkey looked annoyed at the obvious summons.

"Chief, how is the Skipper? He looked pretty bad."

"How should I know? That's for Doc to determine. Now, keep your eyes on that board."

"Admiral." Ski called out. "That trawler it's moving off. The shore patrol's in pursuit."

"Thanks, Kowalski." Nelson turned to the Lieutenant, who stood directly behind him. "Mister O'Brian, take her down."

Meanwhile, all around the control room, the watch was preparing the boat to dive as the klaxons sounded the warning of an imminent dive.

"Sail hatch secure, Mister O'Brian," as the crewman came sliding down the steel ladder to the control room.

O'Brian picked up the mic at the plot table. "Make all preparations to dive."

"All systems read green, sir," a rating called out.

"Take her down," O'Brian ordered. "Down angle on the plains."

"Down angle on all plains, sir," Sounded the helm.

"Pressure in the boat," another rating announced.

O'Brian gave the order to dive. "Dive, Dive, all Dive!' He walked to the helm. "Come to course two, three, zero. Make our depth nine oh feet, all ahead flank."

"Nine oh feet, Sir. All ahead flank." As the instructions were issued, they effortlessly echoed through the control room.

From above, on the surface, the boat dropped below the choppy waves of the Atlantic. Green water washed over Seaview's grey form, as she slipped deeper, disappearing into the sea. Leaving behind nothing but swirls of white foam where she had once been.

"Mister O'Brian, keep the con." Nelson said offering the lieutenant a wry smile.

"Chip, good job." With a shake to the X.O.'s shoulders, Nelson reached around clapping Morton on his back. "Now get out of those wet clothes."

"Aye, Sir," as Chip walked towards the spiral stairs. He had already planned to check in on the Captain in sickbay after a detour to his own quarters, for a change of uniform. Morton turned, eyeing Nelson. "And, Admiral...?

"I'll inform you when I know something. Headed to sickbay now." Turning, "You have the con, Mister O'Brian. I'll be in sickbay." Nelson's voice betrayed his anxiety.

"Aye, sir."

As Nelson worriedly made his way towards sickbay, he could feel Seaview's descent under his feet. The deck inclined down as the boat achieved depth. Seaview dove under the surface of the Atlantic to its relative quiet and safety of the deep, moving them well away from the chaos of recent events.

o0o

The hour had been late when Nelson finally arrived at the door to sickbay. Crane was already attached to a multitude of monitors and several I.V. drips hung from above his bunk. Doctor Jamieson briefly acknowledged Nelson's presence.

Jamieson still wearing his scrubs. "Admiral, I will be with you as soon as I have seen to the Captain."

"Doctor, I'll be waiting in your office." The Admiral turned into the small alcove of Jamieson's office, knowing it would be sometime before the Doctor could disengage himself from his patient.

Jamieson understood he'd have to face Nelson's queries eventually, but he wanted all the facts in-line when he did. Jamieson knew that's what the Admiral would expect, nothing less than his best. He returned his attention to his patient, issuing a few more orders. The Doctor had finished his extensive examination, and had successfully removed all the fragments from Crane's injuries.

An hour later, Jamieson was satisfied that his patient's needs had been attended to and Crane had been settled. The Doctor diverted his attention towards Admiral Nelson, who stood in the cramped space of Jamieson's office. Jamieson stepped into the confines of the compartment.

Nelson immediately set forth questions. "Will, how is he, will he pull through?" The first words the

Admiral uttered, betrayed his deep concern. Jamieson witnessed the play of emotion that raced across Nelson's face.

Shear strain and worry showed on Jamieson's features as well. "Yes, but it was close this time. With his depleted blood volume, the dehydration, and deep shock, I seriously doubt his body could have endured much more abuse. It is fortunate we got to him in time. Given a few more hours, he would have no doubt bled to death."

"What about the bullet wounds?"

"The bullet shattered on impact, fragments all through his shoulder. Surprisingly no damage to the artery. The surface tissue along with upper layers of the muscle fiber are shredded, but there was no interruption to blood flow. The shoulder and arm should heal with no permanent damage. It all appeared inflamed, slightly infected. I started an antibiotic drip, that should clear it up nicely." Jamieson glanced down at his notes. "His wrist and ankles were badly scored from metal cuffs, the right wrist being the worst. I cleaned and dress those as well. A few broken ribs, painful but not considered serious. The medication will address any other infected wounds." Doc stopped, referring to the folder sitting on his desk, "The full details will be reflected in my final report, Admiral."

Nelson glanced in the direction of the now dim and quiet sickbay. Only the bleep of the heart monitor interrupted the hush in the now still room. "Can I see him?"

"I won't stop you… but… he's under heavy sedation. He's very deep, won't even know you're there, Admiral. He needs to be kept quiet, give his body time to recuperate. Harry, know this, Lee will be here for quite some time."

The Admiral nodded. "Understood, Jamie." Nelson agreed with the Doctor's assessment. "You do realize you're going to have a devil of a time keeping him here, once he is conscious!"

"Admiral, I will expect some cooperation from you and Mister Morton on that score. I don't want him pushing his recovery." A serious tone in Jamieson's voice expressed his concern. "I'll be keeping him lightly sedated for now...but as he recuperates it will be increasingly more difficult to keep him calm and off his feet.

"We'll do our best but you know our Captain, as well as I do, it won't be easy." Nelson shot him a wary grin. The conversation had turned to the positive, Crane's recovery. "I'll keep him down as long as I can, we have a long journey to port. Crane will do better here on Seaview, he always does."

"I agree, Admiral. We'll have to stay on our toes."

Nelson walked the short distance to the lower bunk were Crane lay. In the subdued lighting, he simply stared at the quiet form, grateful Lee had come through alive, again. The monitors paced out the steady beat of his heart, as his chest followed suit in a smooth rhythm. His shoulder had been cleaned, stitched and heavily dressed with white bandages, in counterpoint to the richly tanned skin. The light cover, drawn halfway up across his chest, no doubt concealed more bruising, Lee's hand curled into a tight fist, clutched at the edge of the sheet. Nelson could see bruises about his neck and shoulder. His elegant dark features hidden, pale, discolored and swollen from the abuse. In this state, Lee looked, as Nelson would put it, as a small boy. The innocent appearance, however, concealed the strength of the man, the inner strength of a true leader. Harry thanked God for that core of steel, that determination Crane had always possessed. It continuously aided Lee in his very survival. Shaky fingers slipped into Crane's outstretched hand, squeezing lightly, touching, feeling the warm flesh beneath Harry's own finger tips, an extra measure of reassurance to him, that it truly was Lee.

The Admiral stood back, making his way to Jamieson's office. Inclined against the door jam, Nelson leaned in, "Thanks, Jamie. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Admiral." Jamieson returned to his work, updating the remainder of his reports.

The doctor's words haunted Nelson as he departed sickbay, heading towards his own cabin. After the past few days, he recognized how vulnerable Lee had really been, despite his uncanny abilities to endure and invariably returning safely home to Seaview. Nelson feared one day, that Lee would not come back to them, and his boat.

o0o

Several days later the Admiral and Chip stepped into sickbay and found Lee sitting up eating chicken soup, trying to work the spoon around his cut lip with difficulty. "Hey, old buddy how are you feeling? You had us all a bit worried."

Crane tried to smile, wincing as he did. "I'd feel better if Jamie would stop slipping me little pills to put me to sleep."

Nelson glared at Crane. "You need the rest, you're just starting to recover. Promise me you won't force this."

"Lee, can you tell us what happened? Who took you?" Chip plainly asked.

Lee, closed his eyes and was silent. Nelson touched his hand, "we don't have to do this now." Nelson knew Crane needed to deal with the anger, but didn't want to push his Captain until he felt ready to talk about his captivity.

Crane looked down at his hand turned it over as he thought, in a small voice. "I know. But I want to." Crane queried. "How much do you know?"

Nelson answered. "We know about the trawler waiting to come in and pick you up. What is unclear is why? We never did have a complete picture."

"All I know, is the mercenary that captured me had a score to settle. He blamed you, Admiral and Seaview for the death of his brother."

"His brother?" Nelson snorted, "what the devil does his brother have to do with you?"

"Evidently, his brother was on the enemy sub when you rammed it with the Macklin. He never made it off alive. He blamed me for sending the signal so you could find the sub. And you for making it impossible for his brother to escape. His compensation for his brother's death would be the money he received from my capture and the subsequent hand over to our enemies. He took great satisfaction in knowing I would die a slow painful death." His eyes grew dark again.

Lee's thoughts were interrupted by Jamie. The Doctor stepped over, moving the food tray off to the side, Jamie took hold of Crane's wrist, checking his pulse. "Sorry, gentlemen. Skipper, do you need something for the pain." Witnessing the difficulty Crane was experiencing.

"No, Doc. I'm all right, a little tired." Crane closed his eyes again, steeling himself, he took in a slow deep breath. The bitterness of all he'd been through welled up so quickly, it threatened to choke him. Swallowing hard, not admitting to the total truth, his whole body ached and he felt so very tired but he wouldn't give in to weakness. And he certainly didn't want one of Jamie's little pills fogging his memory of events. Unsure at the time, why he must continue, but he knew he had to and he needed a clear mind to do so.

"I'll give you both another few minutes, then you must leave. The Skipper needs his rest." The tone of Jamieson's voice sounded serious. He would not entertain any arguments, from either man.

"Then we'll leave. You can finish the story later, Lee."

"No, Admiral. Stay. I want to continue."

"All right, Lee. Just for another moment."

"The rest, I suppose, was sheer revenge. He said, he just wanted to have some fun with me before he turned me over to my buyers, that I didn't need to be in perfect condition for him to receive his payment."

"Lee, how'd you get shot?" Chip, needed to know.

"I tried to escape, almost made it, too." Crane attempted another grin, rewarded once again by the pain around his lips.

Chip echoed with a broad smile of his own. "Should have known, you'd try to get away."

"I had been told Kowalski and Patterson were dead, I had no means in which to contact you. To tell you I was still alive. I had no backup, I couldn't rely on anyone except myself. I needed to try to escape, make my way back to Seaview. It didn't turn out exactly as I had expected."

Nelson laughed. "Sounds like the Captain Lee Crane I know so well, trying to escape on your own, not expecting any backup. Regardless, it all worked out, that's what counts, at least in the end." Looking at the X.O., "Well, Chip, we best leave or Jamie will come and throw us out. Get some rest, Lee."

Crane met Nelson's sea blue eyes. "Thank you, Admiral. You both put a great deal on the line to get me back."

"Had to, Seaview needs her Captain. Best she'd ever had." ' _And the best friend I could ever hope to have_ ,' he thought.

"Thanks, Chip, for pulling me out."

"All in a day's work, Lee. Seaview wouldn't be the same without her Captain."

"Come along, Mister Morton, someone needs to be in the control room, minding the store."

Moments later. Doc rolled up on a metal stool with pills and a cup of water. "Skipper, this is to help you sleep and this is for the pain you said you did not have." With a stern look he said quietly, "Will you take them willingly or do I need to use this," Jamieson produced a nasty looking syringe.

Crane met the Doctors stare, and held out his hand. "Okay, I'll take the pills but I don't need this...I feel fine," as he took the medication with the offered cup of water.

"Captain!" Doc shot back in a commanding voice. "Until you are out of my sickbay and my charge. I'll be the judge of how you feel." Jamie smiled lightening his stern expression, he softened his voice, "now get some rest, Lee, and that's an order." What could he do? Lee closed his eyes and snuggled back into the pillow. Sleep claimed him nearly at once.

o0o

Out in the corridor, Morton stopped the Admiral. "Sir, how is Lee, really ."

Nelson looked up at Chip, seeing the deep concern run across his face. "Doc says he'll be fine with quiet and rest. He's enlisted us to help him achieve his goal. Keep Lee down until we reach home." Nelson barked a short laugh.

"That's a relief." The X.O. smiled. " Sir, and who's going to inform the Captain of this extended recovery?"

"Hopefully, we won't have to. He'll come to that very conclusion with the proper persuasion from us all."

Skeptically, Morton nodded. "If you say so, Admiral. But I'll believe it when I see it."

o0o

Lee Crane, was lying in his cabin propped up in his bunk on numerous plumped pillows, when he heard a light tap at his door.

"Come." He said sleepily.

The door opened to the cheerful welcoming smile of Admiral Nelson. "I heard Doc released you. How are you doing, Lee?" Nelson pulled up the desk chair and sat down beside Crane's bunk. Since Crane's rescue and resulting confinement to sickbay the Admiral had visited Lee several times a day. However, today's visit to the Captain's quarters meant Lee was truly on his way to recovery.

"Fine, Admiral, just tired of resting." Crane pushed at his pillows, trying to get comfortable. So frustrated he came close to tossing them across the room. The Captain felt antsy, his thoughts, completely out of character for the unshakeable Captain of Seaview.

Nelson noticed the buff colored folder strewn haphazardly atop Crane's covers. "I see Chip's been here."

"He stopped by to check up on me. Brought me a few reports. He said it would take my mind off being stuck in bed."

"What did Doc say about you doing paper work?"

"He said I could read some reports, do a bit of paper work. But," Lee scowled, "and he stressed the point, not to overtire myself and stay in bed. He made himself very clear."

"I'll bet he did. And if I know Jamie, he'll make sure you follow his orders."

"Admiral, I want to be doing something, anything but laying here and the reports aren't doing it." The Captain started to feel useless. Lee never dealt well with inactivity, even during his recovery. He was chomping at the bit to return to his control room and his silver grey lady. He always felt alive at the heart of Seaview.

"Lee, take it easy, for now. Doc said you lost a lot of blood. You still need rest. Your body's been through a tremendous strain. You haven't fully recovered despite how you feel. Besides, Chip and O'Brian can handle overseeing the boat's operations until we reach Santa Barbara. We'll be home in four days."

"I don't want them to get too use to it. I'm still the Captain." Lee's features split into a broad smile, laughing, then grimaced from the pain, a reminder of his ravaged face.

Nelson grinned back, careful not to acknowledge Lee's discomfort. "No need to worry on that score Lee, I'm sure they are aware you're still the Captain." It was good to see Lee laugh, Nelson thought, especially considering what he had just survived. Nelson continued to clutch the small piece of paper as he spoke to Crane.

"What do you have there, Admiral?" Crane referenced the message the Admiral was holding.

"Oh, this, that was my main purpose for my visit, aside from seeing how you were doing.

"What is it, sounds important?"

"It's from the Pentagon. Admiral Sheppard launched a full investigation into the mission O.N.I offered us. When we reported you missing, it sent up several red flags. Turns out, the Admiral's aide was a plant for the People's Republic. He orchestrated the rumor of the chemical weapon and purposely directed the assignment to Seaview. Knowing we would accept, it afforded the People's Republic an opportunity to kidnap one or both of us."

"The People's Republic!" Lee's eyebrow shot up in surprise. He felt unsettled by the prospect of the People's Republic getting their clutches deep into him for a second time. "They had me once. I have no desire to repeat that nightmare." Crane knew what it cost him the first time the People's Republic tried to brainwash him. No one but himself understood the pain and guilt that resided deep inside him. He would forever feel he betrayed his boat, his crew, his country and most of all, Nelson.

Quietly, his golden hazel eyes cast down. Shadows hovered around the edges. Lee said in a subdued tone. "Harry, I tried to kill you." Inwardly he could never forgive himself for his attempt on Nelson's life. The terrible darkness, that nightmare, the wound that remained would forever live deep within his soul, never to be dislodged. He would always feel he betrayed everyone and everything.

"Yes, but you didn't succeed. You couldn't." Nelson always knew the pain and guilt that Lee held onto after that day. The Admiral's heart always recognized the anguish written on the young officer's face. Despite Lee's actions, Nelson held onto everything of value in life, especially the young Lee Crane. He displayed a steadfast determination, that would in all probability, never change. In the face of reality, they always found a way to accept each others limitations, achieving a good, if not, perfect balance.

"No thanks to them." Crane looked up into sea blue eyes sharing a smile. However Crane smile faded rapidly, dropping his head to avoid Nelson's eyes. Since that day, he had trouble accepting the Admiral's trust and devotion. Crane saw it all projected from Harry's sea blue eyes, the love, the respect and the innate compulsion to protect his Captain.

"Lee, you have nothing at all to blame yourself for, I certainly don't." Well aware, that that threat would always remain a constant in their lives.

The Captain abruptly changed the subject, becoming uncomfortable with the emotions being brought to the surface. The old demons continued to haunt him. At times, the power of Lee's emotions caught him off guard, overwhelming him. Lee asked. "Was Boris Agapov in on the entire plan?"

"No, not all of it. No one would have suspected his cooperation, either."

"I still find it hard to believe you went to him for information. You know Chip avoided that particular question when I first asked him. Wouldn't tell me where you were either. "

"It had been originally, in point of fact, Chip's suggestion."

"If it hadn't been for the deal you struck with Agapov, you would have never found me."

"The mercenaries that captured you, they were hired through agents of the People's Republic. They owned the fishing boat you were held on, 'The Shakira', captained by Noah Stark."

"Did you ever know the name of the mercenary? I had only heard him referred to by, his supposed rank, Captain." Crane's eyes unfocused, as he remembered the cold cruel depth of the mans eyes. He let out an involuntary shudder at that thought.

"I do believe we did get a name," Nelson shuffled through the papers in his hand. "Yes, here it is, his name is Luis Ruez. My sources tell me, he was a mercenary for hire."

Crane shot up a dark eyebrow, "The Captain of the enemy sub, his name was Thomas Ruez." Their eyes locked.

"It really was his brother. He was telling the truth. He did it all for revenge. Well, in light of all the evidence, O.N.I. wants a full debriefing when you are cleared by Jamieson."

"Don't they always." Lee didn't look forward to a lengthy interview with Naval Intelligence.

"You know, I almost regret turning Agapov over to the authorities. Almost," Nelson snorted.

"So, the whole assignment was a ruse, an elaborate deception."

The End

This story references two episodes from Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea series:

The Saboteur, Season 1 Episode 24

Killers of the Deep, Season 2 Episode 15


End file.
